Chapter 1: What's Good for You
CHAPTER 1
Today would appear to be an ordinary Wednesday, just like any other. However, there is nothing ordinary about this particular Wednesday. It's October Second, my birthday, in other words, lock yourself in your room day and hope nothing utterly world ending happens.
Whereas birthdays are, generally, supposed to be merry and celebratory, over the years, my birthday has taken on a life form of it's own. It's become this hideous monster causing dread and despair for whomsoever it treads upon, a galactic vacuum cleaner wrought by Satan himself to suck all the happiness out of my life.
You might think I'm exaggerating, and maybe I am, slightly with the galactic vacuum cleaner bit, but for someone who's suffered through birthdays as I l've suffered, it's as good a comparison as any to make.
My birthdays have been so horrendous that it's become habit to approach them with caution and a briming dose of anxiety. For the most part, today hasn't been much different, except now I sense hope bubbling inside of me as the day draws to an end with not a single catastrophic incident occurred.
Call me silly, but I think it might have something to do with Michael. Michael's my new partner in crime, my happy place, my other half, and just about any other sacharine cliche you can think of.
We met a little over six months ago at this fantastic burger joint in the south of Joburg. I co-own a hair and nail salon just a few stores down from it with my besty Sharon. Sharon-Lee is what we call it, Lee is short for my name, Lebohang. Sharon and I often grab takeout after work at the joint to munch on in our apartment.
That day, Michael had just started working at the skyscraper across the road from us, and like me, had gone into the restaurant to grab dinner.
I guess you could say I 'innitiated'. He was just standing there, looking up at the menu screen like he was never going to make a decision --- so I decided for him.
"This man will have the sticky wings, please." I'd said to the cashier.
Bewildered, he'd turned and said, "Excuse me?"
"You should have the wings, they're good."
Scarcely accustomed to being ordered about, Michael had re-joined, "You make a habit of imposing menu preferences on random strangers?"
"No --- but you looked like you needed all the help you could get."
We'd gone back and forth in this way for a while, until eventually he'd asked for my number.
The rest, as they say, was history.
And though Michael is a giant of a man, quite intimidating at first glance, he's actually just a big teddy bear. He's safe --- just what I've been needing all along.
Him and are in a restaurant right now, a fancy three course meal type deal where people sit rod upright and take themselves way too seriously. We can hardly pronounce half the stuff on the menu, and if we weren't having such a good time laughing at ourselves, would have headed straight for the African cuisine restaurant next door.
Michael knows about my 'birthday curse', so he's been trying his best to make sure I have a good one this year. I have to say, so far it's worked. There hasn't been a single sign of disaster lurking anywhere in our midst.
He sent me flowers and chocolate at work today. I got to leave early, too (a perk in being part owner), he then had me booked for three hours of bliss at the spa.
Need I tell you it was wonderful?
Now we're laughing and feeding each other this delicious creamy soup under the aggravated gazes of our fellow dinners.
We couldn't care less.
In case you couldn't already tell, Michael and I are 'that' couple. You know the one. Obnoxious in their public displays of affection, and blind to how indecent and perhaps even bile inducing it is to innocent bystanders...
Fine --- we're not completely blind to the reactions around us, but like I said, we just don't care.
Why would you want to censor love?
Now Michael's licking the soupy deliciousness off my manicured finger, and the restaurant manager's in the corner giving us a look. We laugh discreetly, and I elect for feeding Michael with the spoon instead. The food's good, we don't want to be thrown out by our necks when we've only just begun.
I scrape the last bit of the soup from Michael's plate, and just as I'm about to feed it to him, I see, standing just a few tables away...
My ex.
He's been drudged up from the fiery pits of my own personal hell to haunt me, and just when I was beginning to think today would be a good day after all.
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